


Storms

by Avanalae



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Rain, Umbrellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanalae/pseuds/Avanalae
Summary: It's raining today, but Tim visits his father's grave anyway.





	Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted December 2011.
> 
> Written for a prompt: "I challenge you to make sharing an umbrella angsty"

The rain is heavy, dark and thick. It obscures the vision and makes the city sluggish.

Regardless of this, Tim is outside. His coat is completely soaked, in no way helping to keep him warm. Even his shoes are soaked through. But he’s numb now, physically and emotionally.

It doesn’t matter if he gets sick. He doesn’t care.

He’s in the graveyard; curled up against the gravestone that marks the spot as Jack Drake’s resting place. He couldn’t bring himself to go visit Kon’s or Bart’s statues. Couldn’t stand to spend any more time with the cases.

Tim’s chest shudders, possibly a sob or a cough.

He doesn’t really know.

There are soft sounds making their way towards him. It sounds like rain falling onto an umbrella, of shoes stepping across the concrete pathways. Tim doesn’t move.

He does look up, however, when the sensation of the rain hitting his skin fades away. The lights of the cemetery glow through the storm just enough that Tim can see the tall man standing over him, dressed in a suit and holding an umbrella.

A few blinks clear his vision enough so that he can make out Bruce’s face. He looks down again, not wanting to face the man. Not wanting to be reminded of his failures.

Bruce kneels down, close enough so that both of their heads are covered by the large umbrella. A big, warm hand presses against the back of Tim’s neck and Tim finds himself leaning back into the touch.

The handle of the umbrella is placed in his hands, Bruce wrapping the smaller, frozen appendages around it. Tim does his best to hold on while the big man slips his arms under his knees and shoulders and lifts him up.

The umbrella almost falls, but Tim has enough sense still to guide it to rest on Bruce’s shoulder and not rely on his grip. He’s being held tightly against the broad chest and Tim’s body mourns the way his wet clothes make it so hard for him to feel the heat of the other man. His eyes slip closed, but he’s shaken a bit. A small part of his mind knows that it would be a bad idea to fall asleep.

But he’s so tired…

Bruce walks with Tim in his arms, the umbrella keeping the rain off them.

Tim blinks, each time having to force his eyes back open. He sees the car at the gate and he sighs, pressing his cold cheek against Bruce’s chest.

The umbrella handle is thick and hard, possibly metal wrapped in leather. He rubs his thumb over it, wondering how it would feel to share an umbrella with someone under happier circumstances.


End file.
